


Lucida Exoculo

by 0plus2equals1



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, big lore speculation, old hunters shenanigans, this was porn but it turned into political intrigue, twenty percent shipping eighty percent questionable lore interpretation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2018-12-11 18:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11719707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0plus2equals1/pseuds/0plus2equals1
Summary: A telling of the Holy Blade's fall from grace and how the Healing Church paves the path to hell with good intentions.





	1. Chapter 1

Cowardice, in a sense, was necessary on the hunt. A hunter needed to know when to pursue their quarry and when to retreat from a too-deadly foe so that they could regroup and try again instead of dying in vain. Ludwig knew when it was correct to press onward and when it was wise to turn tail and flee.

Not that he would ever convince the Church’s recruits of the value of his wisdom. Too many fresh-faced hunters threw themselves to claws and blades like they were embracing their foolish deaths as one would a lover. Young men and women that pressed too far into the night would be found when the sun rose, mouths agape, blanketed in their own innards if not left mostly devoured; Ludwig dreaded organizing their burials but was grateful for the fact that many had no family to inform of their passing. Most hunters were of a desperate sort and the Church offered them shelter as long as they swore fealty. As time passed Ludwig found that he could sense which ones would return from a hunt and which ones would not.

The brightly moonlit night seemed to put the two categories in stark relief; as the reeking beasts flooded the streets Ludwig could see some hunters fleeing like rats from a sinking ship. Others stood their ground and flailed wildly, just as likely to cut themselves as their open-mouthed slavering foes. He aimed his rifle to blast away one that was about to leap upon the back of another hunter. It tumbled to the blood-muddled ground, head now flapping off its shoulders by a mere flap of skin; two more beasts charged forward to take its place. The hunter he had briefly rescued flung a Molotov in desperation; it landed too close and burned man and beast alike.

Ludwig shouted over the chaos, calling for the hunters to fall back. Those who heard him were mostly already on their way but a few more managed to extricate themselves from combat. He counted in his head, waiting, backing away until he reached the long shallow trench dug around the infestation. Inside the ditch were piles of oil-soaked kindling; he gave the hunters a few more moments to retreat before lowering his torch.

The flames leapt high and surrounded the area in a wall of fire. Gouts traveled inward on trails of oil the hunters had left when they initially invaded. Ludwig heard shrieks; beasts, hopefully, but the death throes of wolves and men were hard to discern.

 

* * *

 

The hunters regrouped at the workshop, safely away from the inferno. They self-medicated with blood and drink while Ludwig turned a blind eye to those that sent for paid partnership. After such a painful failure, he would not begrudge them creature comforts.

Ludwig could have no such relief. The Church would be expecting a report. He placed his rifle in its case and secured it; the sword on his back remained.

 

* * *

 

Laurence was entertaining several other officials in his study. Ludwig noted the mix of Byrgenwerth uniforms and church garb with muted interest before clearing his throat and knocking on the wood of the door frame.

He received more than a few questioning looks; career hunters were usually seen as oddities by the Byrgenwerth brain trusts and vice versa. Most of the individuals in the office were well-groomed and better-kempt. Ludwig had changed clothes and combed his fingers through his unruly hair but he knew the night hung on his shoulders like a permanent cloak. No amount of embroidered Church finery would hide it. He was grateful that the stares were of curiosity and not animosity; he was known for saving the city from beasts, after all.

“Ludwig,” the vicar said, breaking the silence. “A surprise to see you, and a pleasant one, I hope. Do you bring good news?”

“Delicate news,” he replied, “that perhaps should not be announced to an audience.”

Laurence nodded and waved his hand sharply before addressing the assorted scholars. “The night grows long, does it not? We’ve talked in more than enough circles. Inform me of when progress is actually made.”

The group buzzed for a short time with farewells but cleared quickly enough. When the last one filtered out the door Laurence fixed his even stare on Ludwig.

“It’s spreading.” Ludwig started, his voice kept low. “More than any of us could have expected. This excursion to the outskirts was meant to be no more than patrol and yet it turned into a three-day _siege_.”

“How many?”

“Beasts? Dozens. Hunters lost? Perhaps similar numbers.”

“Did you purge them?” It was more statement than question. Ludwig kept himself from grinding his teeth.

“We set the place ablaze before leaving. I plan on taking a second party down to check for survivors of either sort.”

Laurence was quiet for a few moments before speaking. “Fire spreads, Ludwig.”

“As does this plague.”

“Yes.” He crossed his arms and tapped his fingers against his elbows. “Should we alert any of the fieldsmen of a wildfire?”

“We kept it contained. A trench surrounding the bulk of the beasts. We made sure not to dig too close to the trees.”

“One stray spark…”

“One stray beast. We all watched the flames for some time. We did not think that there was risk of it spreading.”

Laurence sighed and looked askance. “Is there anything else?”

While Ludwig knew that the vicar held great concerns about the spreading plague, his aloof behavior made him want to grab the man by the shoulders and shake him at times. He managed to restrain himself from doing so. “If you can inform your chemists, we’ll need more antidote. If the clerks can bring in more oil to the workshop—”

“The oil is being rationed. We’ve had report from the hinterlands of the coming winter being a difficult one. And since we’ve been dead set on destroying our own lumber—”

That was just one case of a controlled burn gone awry. A few years of surplus wood had gone up in flames when the dark warehouses on the perimeter of the city had become infested with beasts. Bolts of wool and cotton, bags of grain and oats; all lost when the roof collapsed under the weight of burning bodies. More than a few homes had been left without heat when wood temporarily stopped coming in from the outskirts and there were no stores to fall back upon. Ludwig winced at the memory. “What about the whalers on the northern coast? I heard tell that the seas were particularly bountiful this season.”

The way Laurence looked at him gave him pause; there was some flash of emotion, one that Ludwig could not identify. It disappeared as quickly as it came. “There have been heavy storms on the coast. We’ve lost contact with several ships.”

Ludwig frowned but said nothing. He had spoken with sailors recently that had gossiped about calm seas and schools of fish that nearly broke their nets under their weight. Sailors were known to tell tall tales, but their skill was in embellishment, not outright lies.

“In any case,” Laurence continued, “be sure to revisit the outskirts, as you said. I may send some men myself to investigate the spread.”

Ludwig half-nodded, half-bowed and made to leave. Just as he was about to turn away the vicar spoke again.

“Ludwig.” A pregnant pause; the two stared at each other, one blankly and the other with suppressed confusion. “You still have blood on your face.”

Ludwig swore and raised his sleeve. Laurence assisted by pointing to the spot on his own face, tapping his finger against the crease of his nose as Ludwig scrubbed the rust-red stain onto white cloth.

 

* * *

 

Ludwig kept his own room in the workshop, as he had no wife or particularly close family to share a home with. A few cousins in the city proper had offered spare rooms but he found the company of fellow hunters more welcoming than them after they discovered that even the first hunter of the Church was paid no more than the average working man. They had reinvited him once he had earned more renown but Ludwig found it wiser to ignore them. The workshop was calmer than the central city in any case, secluded as it was within the Cathedral Ward.

He took the time to draw a bath and sank into the steaming-hot water with a long sigh. He could feel the coiled knots in his muscles melting away in the heat. The sword, ever present, was propped against the outer edge of the tub. It made him feel nostalgic and he reminisced about how he had found it in the first place.

He had detested the labyrinths revealed by ritual. Their twisting underground passages were suffocatingly claustrophobic and he far preferred fighting under the open sky.

But if Laurence told him to lead an expedition into Isz, he would, and so he took a hunting party into the depths. He was a bit younger then and more likely to take risks; this was evident in how three of the hunters had died screaming in the pale arms of creatures Ludwig could never identify. It was a lesson in learning patience. They no longer rushed into rooms in order to clear them as quickly as possible but instead took them one corner at a time, checking each ancient brick for traps, investigating every wall for hidden passages.

Ludwig had fallen for a trap himself. The floor beneath him had crumbled and sent him to a pitch-black room. The other hunters above shouted for him to wait and ran off to search for ways into the pit while he struggled to crawl in the knee-deep muck. He could hear things moving in the darkness, could feel something biting at the flesh of his calves. He scrabbled his hands against the walls and tried to lift himself up as his sight began to adjust to the barest amount of light. Everything below his chest was stained and sticky with foul red sludge. Claws pulled at his back and he nearly landed face-first in the blood tar. He forced himself to roll to the side and heard the clatter of metal. Ancient burnished gold plates tumbled at his back and he felt his shoulder slam against the corner of a metal trunk. The floor sloped upwards there and he kicked his feet against the floor, pushing himself up out of the swampy refuse. He braced his back against the lid of the chest but fell again when the lid slid off under his weight.

A monstrous form, all teeth and writhing, was emerging from the darkness. He tried to stand up once more and his hand closed around something heavy within the chest.

There was a burst of light before his sight was blinded. There was no pain, but something new was in the deep darkness. He could hear the previous creature wailing in agony but somewhere beyond its banal pain was a miniscule presence that felt so far away that he was filled with something akin to homesickness. It was like trying to reach out and touch the stars. He walked forward, one hand outstretched, the other dragging the thing it had latched on to in the chest. He tried to call out to it but the words died in his throat. He trod over the still-twitching corpse and grasped at the air. Why did it have to be so distant?

He gasped as the little light moved, flitting like some joyful creature, and several more tiny glowing things sprouted from the abyss behind it. He tripped over something and fell to his knees. His head pounded painfully but he kept his grip on the stone hilt. He could see them approaching, growing closer to him, their beautiful light engulfing him—

The other hunters eventually found him stumbling down a corridor, soaked head-to-toe in blood and dragging a strange sword. They were afraid that he had gone mad as it took him several long moments to even realize that they were there. The fact that he was smiling dreamily did not help his off-putting appearance. He could still remember that overwhelming feeling of security as he sank a bit further in the bath and focused his thoughts on the distant little forms that danced in the back of his head. It was a joy that started at his crown and ran deep through his spine at the knowledge that their infinite wisdom had chosen _him_ as their messenger, that they deigned to contact _him_ with their beatific guidance. Satisfaction settled in his belly and he lolled his head against the edge of the tub. He knew that when cornered by beasts and worse he could count on their accompaniment, no, their instruction; if anything, his strength was the symphony and the light was the conductor.

It had been the first and only time Laurence sent him to Isz. The Church had been concerned about adverse effects, so Ludwig and the sword had briefly been shuffled off to Byrgenwerth and inspected by Caryll and a few of her fellow students. Despite being gifted with the tongue of the gods, she could make no head nor tail of the strange bond the two had, and Provost Willem had questioned him further about how the sword had spoken to him. It was not so much speaking as sight, he explained, and the man’s interest seemed to double. Word spread and Ludwig soon had other students hounding him for a chance to study the sword. With growing exasperation he declined their requests and when he began to sense that some of the students would see no problem in simply _stealing_ the sword and perhaps his skull as well he sent for Laurence’s permission to retreat back to the city. His pseudo-quarantine ended and Ludwig returned to the hunt newly enlightened but not informed.

 

* * *

 

Morning brought the sun and a small party of yawning hunters following Ludwig into the ashen waste left behind from the fire. The awful smell of burned beasts did not help his queasy stomach; Gratia, a hunter that put passion into all of her pursuits without heeding her skill, had cooked breakfast that day and the state of the eggs still haunted him.

They trotted on horseback through still-smoldering charcoal, poking at piles of wreckage with long metal staves. He led them past a collapsed shack where a small beast burst from a pile of refuse with a screech. One of the hunter’s horses reared back and the young woman on top was thrown from the saddle; all the others managed to shoot the creature simultaneously. It crumpled to the ground, air still hoarsely shrieking through its pierced throat. The woman was unharmed but the horse had fled. Ludwig made a mental note to tell the men at the stables to stop sending them workhorses bought straight from the farms. Having no horse was better than having an untrained one accidentally kick in the head of its rider.

The group came upon a cabin still standing and they dismounted from the horses and prepared to clear the building. Ludwig stared into the doorway that gaped darkly like an opened mouth and drew his sword. It was in the form of simple stone; he only used it to its full potential when absolutely necessary.

Ludwig took point while two hunters moved to flank. They entered and briskly checked the corners before pressing further inwards. The floor was covered in a mixture of hay and mud and human refuse that stuck to their boots. A few small bodies were cramped against the far wall; Ludwig could smell the burnt flesh and tried not to think too hard about it as he strode past.

The sound of steel hitting wood came from further in the building. The other two hunters froze, listening for any scraps of sound. Ludwig edged forward, blade at the ready. The door to the next room was half open and he slid himself inside through the gap, not wanting the hinges to squeak.

He could see flickering firelight and shadowed movement in his peripheral. The room stretched further off to the side than he had anticipated. He could see a human form, no, three of them; he hoped that they were righteous men and not the opportunistic scavengers that rushed into the wreckage of Church raids as soon as the flames died down in order to steal from the deceased. He gave them the benefit of the doubt by calling to them.

“Well met—” Ludwig flinched backwards on instinct and the little lights burned like candles in his head. An arrow— _an arrow?_ —skidded across his cheek and embedded itself in the doorframe. The crossbow bolt vibrated with the shock of hitting the wood and Ludwig could hear its low thrum. He also heard swearing and a hushed argument. He ducked back out of the doorway and motioned for his hunters to get behind him.

Footsteps, light but steadily purposeful, approached the door; Ludwig waited until they sounded close enough to shove the door inward and charge into the man who had walked forward. He lowered his shoulder and slammed it directly into the other man’s ribs; he heard him wheeze as the air was knocked from his lungs. He had intended to continue the charge past him and rush the others in the room as his hunters followed behind but the man had gripped wildly at his collar and pulled him down as he fell. Ludwig felt a fist slam into his windpipe and he swung his head downwards, cracking his forehead against the other man’s temple. He struggled to extricate himself but the man was intent upon keeping the fight on the ground and had wrapped his arm around his neck in an attempt at a chokehold.

Ludwig heard something—someone shouting—and tried to search for his hunters in the dark room. They were standing motionless in the doorway, weapons not even drawn, just staring into at something at the opposite wall. With growing confusion Ludwig tried to find what they were staring at—he finally parsed the shouting as “ _stop trying to choke him, you idiot”_ —and the grip around his throat relented.

He glanced upward and saw the source of the shouting: the familiar outline of the First Hunter. Gehrman was leaning on his blood-wet scythe, an expression of annoyance and anger twisting his face. Behind him a hunter Ludwig did not recognize was holding the severed head of a beast with a look of shock.

 

* * *

 

Gehrman was a man that seemed to have been born old. Ludwig had heard stories of him prowling the streets on long nights since he himself was a child. When the common person of the city thought ‘hunter’, it was often Gehrman’s ragged silhouette that came to mind, not the crisply uniformed men of the Church. Ludwig had only come in contact with him a few scant times before but he held nothing but respect for the man in spite of the haughtiness of the Blood Ministers that dismissed him as a relic.

He watched him reprimand the man with the crossbow. His words were harsh but he slammed a vial of healing blood into the man’s shoulder and Ludwig watched as the blossoming bruise on his forehead faded to nothing. Blood couldn’t heal injured pride, however, and the man’s lips twitched at the edge of a sneer every time he stole a glance at Ludwig.

The third hunter, the one Ludwig had not seen before, was making small conversation with his own recruits as the group recovered. When he managed to catch Ludwig’s attention he offered a deep bow. “My apologies, sir. Or, our apologies. The night is long and we are on edge. We had Simon keep watch for beasts and we weren’t expecting the other Church hunters to arrive until later.”

“No apologies needed.” He returned the bow with less obsequiousness, merely dipping his head in recognition. He turned his attention to Simon, who was holding the tips of his fingers to his temple with a look of frustration. “My apologies to you, in turn. I should not have startled you.”

Simon stared at Ludwig like he was appraising livestock, detached and judgmental. Ludwig didn’t appreciate the look and he squared his shoulders.

“Again, no apologies needed.” Simon’s voice was oddly sibilant, as if each _s_ was instead an _ss_. He also did not sound entirely sincere. “We had our own troubles in the night. I felt no desire to deal with another ambush.”

“Better to keep you on your toes than have you drifting off on us again,” Gehrman said as he folded his scythe. “Don’t worry yourself, Ludwig, this man’s merely one of the Church’s auditors,” he explained, though the way he said it made it sound like a slur.

There was a short jolt of surprise at the First Hunter knowing his name before Ludwig remembered that he had his own reputation preceding him. More befuddlement followed at the idea of the Church having saddled Gehrman with an auditor. The hunter and his apprentices received grants in return for protecting the city, as well as an allotment of healing blood each month. To have sent an auditor mean the Church suspected him of squandering supplies, and Gehrman was not known as a wasteful man.

“We were just returning to see if any survived the fire,” Ludwig explained, “though it would be pointless to retread your steps. Have you seen anyone?”

“None but beasts. One of my apprentices had a home here and he hadn’t been seen since the raid.” Gehrman cleared his throat and spat on the ash-dusted ground.

Guilt plucked at Ludwig’s nerves but he pushed it away. “It’s possible that he merely fled to the woods.”

“Possibly. We did find his corpse, though, so that quite limits his possibilities.”

Ludwig’s shoulders slumped. “Ah. My apologies.”

“Once more, none needed.” He sighed and nodded toward his companion hunter. “We should get moving and let the Church boys do their duty. Come on, Simon.”

Simon struggled to plaster a blank expression over his scowl but he followed Gehrman nonetheless. He shouldered past Ludwig in order to follow the other hunters out the door, his smaller frame barely managing to push Ludwig’s larger one. Ludwig refused to let his behavior upset him, having become used to the compensating machismo many hunters used as social shields, but when much later in the day he found that his coin purse was missing he cursed the man and would have left the tavern hungry if it were not for the slightly star-struck owner giving him his meal for free.

 

* * *

 

Another hunt, another report. Ludwig sat in the Church’s conference chamber on the verge of falling asleep. He had spent so much time striking down beasts that he saw their flesh rupturing with blood when he closed his eyes. The hunt was temporarily over but it felt much closer than these men arguing about the abstracted distribution of iron and blood through coin.

The only real point of interest to him was Lady Maria. Maria’s voice made him see a necklace of piano wire, a gently tightening garrote. Her stare was just as razor-sharp. He was never sure if she enjoyed his company but he found her resolute patience reassuring. She had apprenticed under Gehrman when she first came to Yharnam, sent by Cainhurst nobility as part of an experience exchange, and Gehrman had shipped a few of his more promising hunters over to the remote island in return. There were whispers of more tumultuous aspects of the exchange, of Maria being an effort to worm the noble’s sharp fingers of influence into the higher echelons of the Church, but Ludwig had never sensed anything but sincerity from her, even though her sincerity was outlined by distant coldness and not familiar warmth. Her demeanor was just as sharp and straightforward as her sword. In the end, the exchange was considered a success and Maria had petitioned to remain on the mainland both to continue her apprenticeship under Gehrman and to begin participating in several research programs.

Ludwig had spoken with her several times at, of all things, these meetings on funding. Gehrman had grown exhausted of such meetings due to his unofficial status and indeed rarely deigned to be seen in the Cathedral Ward at all; instead, he sent his apprentices to speak for him. While Ludwig had been struggling to convince some of the ministers to find ways to work around the Eastern gunpowder tariffs Maria had taken notice of his floundering. Ludwig could easily convince men to die for their city but he had a harder time convincing ministers to move money around. These were men who had never set foot in an infestation, never seen the jaws of a beast clamp down on the neck of a friend; the plague was a distant problem of the fieldworkers back then, not something knocking down their city-dweller doors.

Maria had slid into their arguing enclave like a dagger into a ribcage and cracked open their bickering with a few choice statements. Her regal bearing imported from Cainhurst and her familiarity with economic rhetoric quickly convinced them that perhaps letting some regulations go slack would result in higher returns in the long run.

He had thanked her and received no more than a nod in return. When, much later, she casually mentioned her interest in taking part in the newly constructed research hall he immediately recommended her to Laurence. Within the day she had been given a leadership position. The next time they saw each other she gave him her thanks; he responded with a nod and a smile.

Ludwig knew that she had participated in hunts before, but of late she had thrown herself entirely into her research. It was what she was arguing about with the ministers now. Ludwig caught something about requesting more manpower in the research hall and needing more access to the stores of food. Despite Maria’s commanding manner of speech, he found himself beginning to drift off.

He snapped back to awareness when he heard Laurence speak. The vicar rarely attended the meetings unless it was of great importance, and he must have entered the room without Ludwig noticing.

“Since the Provost seems keen on blocking me at every turn, we’re changing the grant system, as well. The Church will only offer additional funds to those who focus their research on blood and its uses. Byrgenwerth will receive their usual stipend, of course, but it will be reduced.”

Lady Maria’s eyes narrowed. Ludwig’s brain scrambled to figure out what the conflict was. The research hall was owned by the Church and would not have to worry unduly about money, but Maria still seemed perturbed. “Shall I make plans to transition my patients to blood treatment, then?”

“Only if you see fit.” Laurence shrugged, not seeming particularly concerned.

She still did not seem convinced. As the meeting disbanded she was the first to leave. Ludwig, concerned, followed after her.

“Lady Maria, my apologies, but I think I missed out on the crux of your argument. What was the issue at hand?”

She looked at Ludwig, initially suspicious, but she softened a microscopic amount in response to his earnestness. “In truth, you missed nothing of great concern. I just grow tired of policy when I have the lives of patients to consider.”

He nodded. “I see. Maria, if you ever need me to speak with Laurence about such things, I’d be more than willing to. When not being overly obstinate he does sometimes listen to my counsel.”

She offered something akin to a smile. “You have my thanks, but we all have our own battles to bear.”

Ludwig heard someone call his name; Laurence was standing at the door frame and gesturing for him to approach. When he turned back to say farewell to Maria she was already several paces away.

 

* * *

 

“Now I don’t want you to feel that this is an investigation,” Laurence explained, “but I’ll be sending an auditor to the workshop. Merely as routine, you understand. The ministers would like to have periodic objective updates on each of the hunter cadres and we’ll be starting with yours.”

Suddenly, Gehrman’s annoyance was understood. Ludwig felt similarly upset but pushed the feeling away. “Yes, of course. I’m sure whoever you send will report favorably on my hunters.”

A bit of tension left Laurence and he gave Ludwig a thin smile. “I’ll expect nothing but glowing praise from them. You can expect them to arrive on the morrow.”

 

* * *

 

The auditor was a familiar face. Ludwig resisted the urge to bury his head in his palms. He focused on the calm little lights and felt his frustration ebb away but as soon as he recognized the reality of the man leaning nonchalantly on the wall in front of him it returned with tidal force.

Simon had arrived late at night, just as the hunters were returning from their patrol. Despite Ludwig desiring nothing more than to retreat to his chambers and sleep, the man had insisted he give him a tour of the workshop. He investigated their vial storage system and the barrels of miscellaneous supplies kept in the basement. He took a brief lap of the barracks, receiving a few odd looks from confused and groggy hunters. He inspected their workbenches, taking his time peering at the gutted mechanisms of weaponry scattered throughout the space. When he came upon a rifle left disassembled for cleaning he could no longer hide his disgust.

“Such a pointless weapon, is it not? Useful when in prime condition, yes, but one piece breaks and the rest soon follows. Depending on something being fully functional at all times is the stuff of fools, and the more parts it has the more likely it is to fail you. It’s really rather distasteful to put so much faith in firearms.”

Ludwig shifted the massive rifle on his side and said nothing. Simon smirked.

“Oh, my apologies. It was not my intention to call you a fool to your face.”

The tour continued until they reached Ludwig’s chambers. He had a makeshift office outside his bedroom, no more than a long table and a few chairs, and he took a seat opposite Simon, who remained standing.

“So now I am privy to the inner workings of the Church workshop,” Simon said with mocking awe. “Though I am more curious as to the character of your hunters than their weaponry.”

Ludwig had come to terms with the fact that he would not be sleeping any time soon. He waved his hand languidly. “Ask away.”

“I’ve received reports of hunters taking advantage of the good townsfolk, claiming things in the name of the hunt. Wine, women, and what-have-you, all stolen from homes that were expecting to be protected.”

Ludwig’s mouth was set in a firm line. “My hunters are no thieves.”

“Some say otherwise.” Simon tilted his head and ran a thumb along his jawline in thought. “You were known for recruiting common men to join you on hunts well before the Church took you in. Yharnam is a proud city but we have our share of rabble. Can you truly vouch for the character of _every_ hunter that cycles through your ranks?”

“I train my hunters to be good men of the Church.”

“You know as well as I that not every member of the Church is _good_.”

Ludwig’s eyes narrowed. “You’re treading dangerous ground.”

“I know you feel indebted to them in your position, but surely you must realize that just because they lifted _you_ from the muck doesn’t mean they weren’t willing to step on the head of another drowning man just for the leverage.”

Ludwig stood and his hands tightened into fists. Upon seeing how satisfied Simon looked at getting a rise out of him he forced himself to be calm. “I had not taken you for a vindictive man, but perhaps I overestimated you. Pry all you want into my hunters’ affairs but you will find no corruption here.”

Simon was as still as a statue. After a few moments of terse silence, he spoke with evident confusion. “Vindictive?”

Now it was Ludwig’s turn to be befuddled. “Are you not still upset about the incident with Gehrman?”

“What?” It took a moment for him to recollect the event. “Oh, that. Our scuffle. I had been without rest for nearly four days, you know.”

Ludwig thought with great concern that if he wasn’t angry with him because of that then he just behaved this way _all the time_. No wonder Gehrman had been annoyed. “As had I,” he replied flatly, “yet I at least attempted civility.”

“You trampled me.”

“Only after you returned my greeting with a crossbow bolt.”

“It was a sudden sound in a place full of beasts. Forgive me for having my guard up.”

Ludwig remembered the lightness at his hip with a scowl. “I’ll gladly forgive you for that, but not for robbing me.”

A grin slowly grew on Simon’s face. “Ah. You think I robbed you?”

“Who else could it have been?”

Simon dug in his pockets and retrieved the coin purse. He held up his hand and dangled it by its drawstring. “I merely borrowed it. Here, you can have it back.” He held it out in offering but made no move to bring it closer to Ludwig or set it on the desk. Ludwig had to stand, walk around the table, and approach him in order to retrieve it.

He knew that Simon was toying with him, that he was trying tip the scales of power in his favor; Ludwig also knew that he should be mature enough to let this petty inconvenience not bother him. But when the man pulled the coin purse back just as Ludwig was about to grab it he felt his patience wear thinner than a thread. Without truly thinking about it he lifted his knee into Simon’s gut and clamped his hand around his wrist. He pressed his thumb into the hollow of tendons under his palm and Simon dropped the satchel. He released his grip, scowling, and bent over to pick it up but Simon dropped an elbow against his spine. Ludwig shouted with shock and pain and turned to drive his head into Simon’s stomach. Simon attempted to sidestep him but Ludwig grabbed onto his thigh as he tackled him and the two fell to the floor in a tangle.

Despite the dead serious anger on Ludwig’s face, Simon had nothing more than an expression of pure amusement as he tried to prop himself up on his elbows. “Quick to violence, I see. Shouldn’t you be saving your aggression for the beasts?”

Ludwig resisted the urge to punch the smile off his face. “And shouldn’t you be investigating instead of instigating?”

“The way people behave under pressure reveals the truth of their person.”

As Ludwig got to his feet he tried his best to focus on the little lights. Frustration and annoyance churned inside him but his heartbeat began to slow to a more reasonable pace. Simon remained on the floor, practically lounging as he watched the other man recover.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” Ludwig said. “Keep sniffing around the workshop or doing whatever it is you do. I’ve had quite enough.”

Simon shrugged, still grinning. “Duly noted. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Upon waking up, Ludwig slipped out of the workshop and went directly to the chapel. He felt that Simon’s behavior was entirely unprofessional and if the Church wanted an objective view of his hunters then they should have sent someone else.

As he waited outside of Laurence’s room he could overhear the conversation taking place inside. The sound of Laurence speaking was familiar, but the other voice was unknown to him. It was nasal and atonal and yet rose and fell with such dramatic intent that Ludwig strained to hear what the two were talking about.

“Using blood to heal people after surgery does not constitute as blood research. We already know that it can do that.”

“You misunderstand me. We aren’t _just_ healing people. We’re defining the exact limits of recovery. Don’t you think it’s important to know dosages so we aren’t just _tossing_ good blood away?”

Laurence sounded exasperated. “I’m perfectly aware that you don’t give a damn about _dosage_.”

“Oh, you insult me. Of course I care! We’ve been bringing people back from the _brink_ , you know. And, given further research, perhaps _past_ the brink.” The conversation dropped to a much lower volume and Ludwig could no longer hear them.

Eventually the discussion came to an end. Ludwig took a few steps away from the door as it swung open. The man that strode out wore the lapeled cloak of Byrgenwerth alumni yet managed to somehow look disheveled despite the uniform. He had disappointment clouding his expression as he left the office but his eyes immediately lit up when he spotted Ludwig. He held out a hand in greeting and smiled widely. “If it isn’t the Holy Blade himself! I haven’t laid eyes on you since you had your stint at the college. As a hunter, I imagine it’s a rarity to see you in the sunlight at all!”

Ludwig had shaken a lot of hands at Byrgenwerth but not many of the faces had stuck. If he had met the man before he had no memory of it. With a politely vacant smile he returned the handshake.

The man clasped both hands over his and shook vigorously. “How has the hunt been treating you?”

“It has been calm of late, with not many troubles to complain of.” Ludwig felt a creeping dread that indulging in conversation with the man could end up waylaying him for hours. The man had not yet stopped shaking his hand.

“Excellent, excellent! It’s a relief to know that our good hunters are not overworked, even if a hunter _must_ hunt.” Finally, blessedly, he dropped the handshake. Ludwig nodded in vague agreement and tried to peer around him in order to catch Laurence’s attention. The man was _still_ talking, saying something about how the nights seemed to be growing longer and would the hunters start going out in shifts but Laurence appeared in the doorway and cut the conversation short.

“Micolash, leave the poor man alone before you talk his ears off. Ludwig, what brings you here so early in the day?”

“I’ve a few questions about that auditor you sent me. Ah, pleasure meeting you, but pardon me.” Ludwig nodded a curt farewell and stepped around the scholar, who returned the nod several times.

“Of course, of course! May the good blood guide your way!”

Ludwig repeated the platitude in kind and ducked inside Laurence’s office. They shared a look of exhaustion before speaking.

“So, the auditor?” Laurence took a seat and gestured for Ludwig to do the same.

“The man is incredibly unprofessional,” he stated. He tried to keep any hint of whine or complaint from his tone and instead spoke as if reading from a list. “He’s made baseless accusations against my hunters and has a penchant for pickpocketing.”

Laurence gave him a look of utter confusion. “Who is this?”

“Simon.” Laurence still looked lost so he tried to scrounge up a description. “A young man, thin. Attempting a beard. Prefers arrows to firearms.”

Laurence took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Ah. _That_ Simon. I didn’t assign him to you.”

“Then why is he in my workshop harassing my men?”

“I don’t know.” He folded his hands in front of him and frowned. “I’ll have a word with the ministers. Don’t worry yourself about him, Ludwig, he’s the sort that likes to pry things apart. I’ve received complaints about him before. I half suspect that he was sent to Gehrman in the hopes he’d get himself killed on one of their riskier hunts.”

Feeling reassured, Ludwig gave his thanks and left. While it was early in the day for him, the sun was descending from the sky and he knew he needed to run his other errands before the sky grew too dark. He made the trek to Central Yharnam in order to visit the market district and haggle with a few vendors. The Church provided basic meals to his hunters but he usually spent a bit of his own wages to purchase something nice for them. The man with a flock’s worth of plucked ducks was familiar to him and he did the usual song and dance for a reduced price. For our proudest hunter, the vendor always said as he knocked a few pennies off the sale. It was no foie gras but his hunters did seem to appreciate a good roast.

He left the vendor after setting up the delivery and began the long walk back to the Cathedral Ward. Ludwig felt the little lights flare and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He had the suspicion that he was being followed, but in the relatively crowded streets of the market it was hard to tell. He kept his strides steady and planned to stay in the midst of the throng of people until he could reach the great bridge. Once the packed roadway began to thin he ducked beneath the awning of a small woodworking store and recollected himself, staring out into the sea of faces for any that seemed darkened with ill intent. The little lights kept flickering out a signal of danger but he could find no cause. He was so engulfed in concentration that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Simon elbowed him in the side. He swore loudly and again in an angry whisper as Simon grinned at him.

“What are you doing? Were you following me?”

“I’m not the only one. You’ve got a tail,” Simon said, nodding towards the crowd. Ludwig peered out and squinted at the shifting crowd until Simon elbowed him again.

“Look _up_ , man.” He moved as if to scratch his nose but aimed his index finger towards the rooftop of the building across the street. Ludwig looked in the direction he had pointed and spotted something dark outlined against the sunset sky. There were fluttering feathers and the glint of metal; before he could get a better look, Simon grabbed his arm and dragged him back out into the street.

“It seems not every hunter is a fan of your holy blade,” he said as he pulled Ludwig along. “Some Hinterlands folk find it blasphemous.”

“I’m well aware of my detractors.” There had been times foreign hunters had attacked him in the night and while it was rare it was far more dangerous than encountering beasts. He was more than grateful that his protégés stepped up to defend him but he still felt a sea of guilt when they were injured or worse in his name.

“Well, here’s a way to lose him.” Simon dragged Ludwig down a side street despite his complaints and he realized that he had been pulled into the middle of a Confederate rally.

 

* * *

 

The fact that Yharnam was run by a theocratic oligarchy gave more populist-minded outsiders a bit of a superiority complex. The Confederates advocated for a more equal distribution of power between the Church and the populace as well as better support systems for immigrating outsiders. The group was currently headed by Valtr, a man who had once been made famous for having allegedly devoured a beast whole. Valtr’s odd league seemed to straddle a line between political party and cult, and the most zealous members took part in the hunt under the Confederate banner. Ludwig had thought that they had reasonable ideas until they started complaining of nebulously unidentifiable vermin.

Ludwig glanced behind him to see if the feather-coated mysterious figure had followed them but was quickly distracted by a Confederate shoving pamphlets into his hands. The ink on the folded paper was still wet and some of the text smudged under his fingers. The pamphlet fluttered to the ground as Simon grabbed him once more and pulled him deeper into the crowd. It was thickest around a pile of crates that Valtr was standing on top of and shouting his speech to his cluster of cheering Confederates and scattered confused citizens. Ludwig stood beside Simon, doubtful that his tall form really blended in with the crowd, and the shouting from the enthusiastic Confederates made it near impossible for him to hear what Valtr was even saying.

He gave Simon a hopeless look. “I’d really just like to go home, you know.”

“Not my fault you left to go be a snitch.”

“A snitch--?!” He felt so affronted that he didn’t know what to say. Simon rolled his eyes and tugged him yet further, finally letting him escape from the suffocating crowd. They walked briskly down a side street and Ludwig despaired at the fact that they were getting further and further away from the great bridge. Sick of Simon pulling him, he wrenched his arm free from his grasp and planted his feet.

Simon glared at him. “We need to keep moving.”

“So says you. I’m beginning the entertain the idea that you and the man following me are working together.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you quite serious?”

“You’ve had nothing but ill will towards me since we first met.” Ludwig crossed his arms and fixed him with his most righteously judgmental stare. “I learned today that you were not even the one meant to visit the workshop in the first place. What foul thing have you been planning in his stead?”

“That’s—you idiot. The man that was meant to go—his wife gave birth so I’m covering for him while he’s on leave.”

“I think you’re a quick and clever liar.” Ludwig shook his head and turned on his heel, walking purposefully back the way they had come. “We’ll see what the ministers have to say about your behavior. There’s—”

Something pierced his front. He looked down in shock and saw a throwing knife halfway embedded in his chest. At the mouth of the alleyway stood a dark silhouette, deeply shadowed by the setting sun.

He drew his sword without really thinking and the edges of his vision tinged an abyssal blue. As he ran towards his assailant, it barely registered that the figure was not approaching him—merely standing with a hand on a sword hilt, leaning forward tensely, prepared to strike the moment Ludwig was open as he prepared his first swing. As the thin blade slashed through the air it passed under his own and sliced deep into his ribs.

The pain was there but it did not reach him. The feather-caped stranger must have expected him to crumple but he merely followed through with his swing. They attempted to dodge through it, oily black feathers glinting orange in the light, but the arcane energy of the sword flared out like a corona and they were blasted backwards several feet.

Ludwig felt blood pouring from his side like water from a forgotten spigot. He stumbled forward, mindlessly pursuing the hunter that had fallen on their back and was now struggling to get up—they kicked out at his knees and he finally fell.

Blood, he needed blood—but why would he bring vials on a simple trip to the market? He felt a blade dig into his shoulder. He grabbed at it on instinct and felt the edge cut into his fingers. The feathered cape was over him, engulfing him, blocking out the sky—

Simon kicked the man in the head. As the figure tried to recover he drove a dagger into his neck and Ludwig heard the cracking separation of vertebrae.

The hunter slumped to the ground, lifeless. Ludwig distantly felt Simon slamming blood vials into his shoulder and attempting to drag his heavy body over so that it could be propped up against the wall. Organs deep inside him twisted as the healing influence took control and rejoined the flesh along his ribs. He pushed Simon’s hand away and lifted himself to his feet, albeit a bit shakily.

He managed to catch Simon looking at him with concern before it melted away to the customary vague smugness. He focused on the little lights—they were still pulsing nervously, but seemed to be growing calmer—and he turned his attention to the corpse slowly leaking blood on the pavement. Once his heartbeat had returned to normal he cleared his throat. “A foolish endeavor, doing such a thing in broad daylight and alone against two hunters.”

“He almost had you.” Simon nudged the hunter’s head with his foot. It lolled to the side and dribbled thin lines of blood from the mouth.

“I try to fight with beasts, not men.” Ludwig took a deep breath and placed a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Thank you. I apologize for my suspicions. What I said was out of line. If it were not for you being here, I’d likely be dead.”

Simon stared at him and raised an eyebrow. “Well. I suppose I accept both your apology and your thanks.”

“Right.” Ludwig sheathed his sword, once more simple stone, on his back. “We should get back to the workshop. It seems the hunt has already begun.”

Simon nodded in agreement and swiped the blood on his dagger onto the stranger's feathered cloak. The sun began its slow dive into the horizon as the two hunters returned to the Cathedral Ward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title likely a complete bastardization of Latin, but the first word is reference to the glittering of starlight while the second is "blinding" in a very literal sense, as in to remove a person's eyes. So, blinding light.
> 
> If Simon seems a bit OOC 1) I think the nightmare and some other events mellow him out a bit 2) he becomes a harrowed hunter over time as the plague becomes more of a problem inside the city 3) the whole point of him in the DLC is to goad the player into killing Maria, so I expounded upon that. 
> 
> Chapter two will contain more drama and smoochin'. This chapter was mostly introductory and an experiment in how many goddamn characters I could cram in.
> 
> This was meant to be pwp I don't know what happened
> 
> As always, thanks for reading! Your comments and kudoses give me life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW.

Dusk descended upon Yharnam and the hunters gathered in the dying daylight. The patrol was scheduled to sweep down through Hemwick and across some of the farmland at the outer perimeter of the village. There had been few complaints of beasts in the fields but messages had come from families on Hemwick’s rocky coast of creatures disturbing their rubbish piles. Whether it was mere scrounging animals or lurking beasts remained to be seen.

Ludwig, Simon, and twelve other hunters were scurrying to finish preparations. One of the horses they had requested from the stables had not arrived; not wanting to waste time, Simon volunteered to ride doubled up with one of the other hunters.

Ludwig was relieved that the man’s demeanor had softened. He had been rather quiet ever since the confrontation in Central Yharnam and while Ludwig had worried about his silence he quickly grew appreciative of the help he offered in preparation for the hunt. Considering Simon was only being paid to observe, he was truly going above and beyond in his assistance carrying supplies and honing weapons. Ludwig was struck by a pang of guilt as he remembered his earlier conversation with Laurence; he hoped that upon their return it would not be too late to recant his statements. While he still thought his complaints were justified he was willing to put up with some annoyance in order for his hunters to have such an asset.

As the moon rose higher in the sky the night was nearly made day. The grassy field waving around the hunting party was in stark silvery relief. It looked akin to etched metal, fine lines of foliage bright against the deeply carved shadows cast behind them. If Ludwig stared out into the gray field ahead for too long he had to glance at the dappled brown coat of his horse for a reminder of color.

Hemwick was one of the oldest settlements around Yharnam and some of the buildings would have predated the city proper if it were not for the humid seaside weather causing the wooden shacks to quickly rot. The layout of the lane tended to shift every twenty years as old houses were torn down and new ones constructed. Those with funds were able to bring in stone from quarries in the south—the stone of the seaside cliffs was generally too brittle for construction—but many of the inhabitants were subsistence farmers and had no money tucked away for such extravagances. The only truly cemented residence in the area was a brick-and-mortar loft built upon the highest cliff. It had originated as a widow’s residence when cultural practices mandated their seclusion but as times changed it became more of an unofficial town hall. Residents of Hemwick payed tithe to the Church, of course, but they were one of the most self-sufficient populations within Yharnam. Ludwig felt rather surprised that they had come to the Church for assistance with beasts in the first place.

The hunting party was greeted by a cluster of exhausted looking women. The youngest looked no older than twelve and stood towards the back, wringing her hands over her apron. The oldest had more steel to her composure and she nodded towards the hunters.

“There’s all sorts in the middens,” she explained. “Take a look-see. We’d burn ‘em out but it’s been too damp.”

As the hunters dismounted the women hurried to take care of the horses. Ludwig offered his thanks as the youngest girl took the reins and guided the horse over to a fence where it would wait with the others.

The communal waste pit stunk to the heavens. Ludwig had prepared for the miasma and the hunters passed around a vial of peppermint oil. A daub upon the upper lip reduced the stench but his trepidation at descending into the rotting waste could not be masked by any smell. Ludwig took a deep breath and took a few steps into the ankle-deep rubbish. It was frigid and wet and some unknown deep layer sloshed against his boots.

He immediately saw some small creature scurry away, burrowing beneath the trash; that did not startle him but the high-pitched shriek of the young girl nearly made him jump out of his skin. She must have followed them out of curiosity. She clapped her hands over her mouth and looked at the hunters apologetically. Ludwig instructed one of the hunters to guide her away from the waste and several jumped at the chance to remove themselves from the pit.

Venturing forward into the rubbish caused several more scrambling lumps. Ludwig had expected rats but they seemed too large. At least it didn’t seem like the larger wolfish beasts were hiding in the muck; these seemed more the size of a small dog.

One of the hunters threw their cleaver out long and crashed the tip into the ground; Ludwig heard an odd rattling groan. When the hunter retrieved their blade there was a clotted lump of hair and flesh on the end. It took Ludwig a few moments to even recognize the thing. He had only seen them a scant few times before and usually in the most harrowing infestations. When beasts and men died by the dozens their remains seemed to produce such scurrying little creatures, mere amalgams of flesh and fur that seemed to lack any of the instincts of their precursors. Usually they escaped into the shadows before his hunters could catch them or even realize that they were there.

However, the strange things did always seem to hold value; either by digestion of corpses or through some other unknown means they crystallized blood within them. The hunter pulled the body of the thing from the blade and dug a few fingers into its tangled innards before pulling out a thick, pale-red shard of bloodstone.

The rest of the hunters began wading further into the cesspit, now invigorated. This would be quite a lucrative outing if _every_ fleeing creature they had seen held bloodstone. While the other hunters ventured out Ludwig felt rooted to the disgusting muck beneath him. Why would so many of these creatures be in Hemwick when the village had reported no more than the _possibility_ of beasts?

He noticed that Simon had also grown still. The two shared a look that spoke volumes.

A few of the hunters were shouting excitedly. They lifted a writhing mass of waste on the end of a pole and one of the hunters bashed the creature apart with their axe.

With growing concern, Ludwig took a quick headcount of the hunters in the pit. He was one short. The hunter that had taken the young girl back to the women had not yet returned.

“Finish up and pull back,” Ludwig called out to the other hunters. “These creatures are harmless and the hour grows late. The patrol is more important.”

A few of the hunters let out sighs of disappointment but all ceased hunting down the scurrying beasts. Ludwig turned to leave but raised an eyebrow at Simon’s hunched form. He was reaching deep into the trash and trying to push the detritus to the sides in an attempt to reach the sickly, sticky bottom.

“I hate to look a gift horse in the mouth,” he said, digging into the thickly congealed grime, “but the breath of this one _really_ stinks.”

Ludwig pursed his lips but left him to it.

* * *

The women were still milling around the horses when the hunters returned. Ludwig glanced around for the missing one, but he was nowhere to be seen. Suspicion glimmered in the back of his mind.

He approached the woman who had first told him about the pit. “Nothing but scurrying less-than-beasts in there. Nothing to worry about. If you want rid of them, I’ll send a few hunters over after patrol.”

The woman nodded and dusted off her apron. “Well, if there’s no danger, we’re as like to do it ourselves.”

Ludwig nodded and turned his attention to his hunters. “Form up for patrol. We have a long night ahead.” He paused. “Has anyone seen Davies?”

Davies had been the one to lead the girl away from the pit. The hunters glanced around aimlessly.

“Here,” Simon called out. He was walking alongside the missing hunter rather jauntily. “Ran into him on the way back.”

Davies nodded in agreement but something about his posture made the little lights flare. Ludwig nodded curtly and returned to preparing his horse.

* * *

The Davies enigma would have to wait until sunrise. The patrol was more important. After sweeping the outskirts of Hemwick, the hunting party would split, with a small team including Ludwig picking one last time over the burned husk of the purged settlement, and the larger segment continuing a sweep that would loop back at the perimeter of Bergynwerth. Once the hunters regrouped, the second shift would arrive from the workshop and replace the most weary. Ludwig would stay out from sunset to sunrise, but the ever-shifting length of the night caused him to create a rotation. Otherwise, he’d be risking his hunters making mistakes easily avoided with good rest.

The two groups split apart. Ludwig had wondered which one Simon would choose, as he had not been assigned one, and he was mildly surprised that he chose to go with the one on the longer haul towards the college. A sunrise ago he would have been glad for the opportunity to have him off his back, but now he felt conflicted.

Splitting the hunting party gave Ludwig the ability to show his hunters that he trusted their judgement and kept them from feeling overly managed. However, it also made him anxious about the myriad ways things could go wrong without his oversight. He tried to remind himself that disasters and accidents would happen with or without his presence—he was aware that some things were just beyond his control.

But the worry always gnawed at him. His little lights did not inform him of dangers that were wholly outside his awareness. He had learned that they mostly assisted his own natural suspicions, the gut feelings and hunches, the hairs-standing-on-end instincts. So, as Ludwig poked over the rain-dampened ashen remains of the village, he knew that worrying about Simon and the other hunters would do no more than upset him.

When the little lights swirled uneasily anyway, his dread heightened. As the few other hunters in his scouting group kept inspecting the remains, he paused and looked over his shoulder at the perimeter of the wreckage. The gray moonlight made it all to easy to see suspicious movement where there was none.

Just as he went to return to his work he saw a flash of sable cloth against dull ash—but it was gone all too quickly to discern it further. His hand instinctively reached for his sword.

He was distracted by a loud crash and a short exclamation of joy from one of his hunters. They hauled another of the bag-of-bones scurrying creatures into the air and began picking out the bloodstone. Ludwig sighed. He was growing weary of the things.

The party pressed onwards, further into the hollow remains of the settlement. Weakened wooden beams bowed low, creaking at the slightest provocation. Anything worth salvaging had already been removed, but the hunters were more concerned with any beasts that had either been left behind during their last inspection or had moved in afterwards. Thankfully, the place was barren. Aside from a couple of the harmless scurriers, there was no sign of any remaining corruption.

The hunters regrouped near the charcoal-black ditch where the fire had began and prepared their horses to leave. The little lights, which had been shimmering erratically since they had arrived, flared out. Ludwig turned on his heel and spotted a figure crouched atop one of the few remaining buildings. He swore under his breath as he reached for his sword and the other hunters turned to look. He drew the blade and strode forward. The figure resolved, a familiar feathered cape moving minutely in the tepid air. The crow hunter perched on the rooftop but made no move to attack as he approached. Ludwig forced himself to relax his grip on his sword and instead called out to them.

“You there. Any reason you’ve been following my hunters?”

The crow cleared their throat. Their voice was flat and muffled through their beaked mask. “I’m here to apologize. The crow in Yharnam was a protégé of mine. I believe he attacked you.”

“Yes, he did. It’s unfortunate that you Hinterlanders hold such disdain for me.” Ludwig felt twinges of annoyance despite the crow’s seemingly friendly manner.

“Disdain?” They seemed surprised. “Quite the opposite. I’m sure he wanted the sword for himself. He always was the envious sort.”

Ludwig pursed his lips and nodded slowly. “I see. Not that I’m really any less concerned, but I suppose it’s _a_ relief.”

The crow chuckled lowly and raised their empty hands palms-out. “Your hunters look like they’re thirsting for blood. Ensure that they don’t do anything rash, hm? I’ll be coming down now.”

Ludwig turned to his hunters; each had drawn their weapon and were looking to him for guidance. He waved his hand downward and the tension dispelled. Once they had been calmed, the crow dropped lithely from the rooftop and approached them.

“I have a story that may interest you. I think there are beasts breeding over to the east of the college. There were a few hunters laid to rest there and now the bodies are missing. I would have assumed that it was no more than scavengers but there is something…odd.”

He frowned and scratched the back of his head. “Odd?”

“The tracks don’t match any sort of natural animal. You church hunters are tasked with hunting down beasts, correct?”

“Yes, of course.” Ludwig nodded.

“I’d hunt them myself, but I’d prefer to not stray so close to the college.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Thank you.” The crow’s beaked mask bobbed up and down. “And if you’re ever in need of our sort of favor…”

Ludwig gave them a terse smile. The services of a crow hunter were ones he hoped to never need. Crows were dismissed by many as overzealous vigilantes, near-blasphemous hunter-of-hunters that assassinated those that they thought were turning into beasts. Ludwig was of the opinion that a hunter showing signs of infection should be given their fair chances with Church caretaking, even though their methods veered towards the experimental. He understood the crows’ reasoning, but he always wondered if their accusatory claims of beasthood hid some inner political drama. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he replied.

* * *

The moon had set and the faintest tinges of pink began to glow on the horizon. Ludwig used a sleeve to rub at his eyes as his horse trotted through the field. The rest of the night had been uneventful, with hardly any beasts to speak of. He was grateful, but he was not so naïve to think that it signified a remission of the plague. In time, the scattered settlements would erupt with corruption once more.

For now, however, he could return to the workshop and meet with the other hunters. The place was at once abuzz and lethargic; Ludwig raised an eyebrow as a gaggle of exhausted hunters discussed _something_ with great interest. One of them dashed to him as soon as they noticed his arrival.

“Church men in your office, sir,” the hunter explained. “Seems important.”

Compared to the pleasant yet tired demeanor of the hunters downstairs, the church officials were particularly grim. Ludwig steeled himself as he approached and gave them a short bow. They were all unfamiliar to him, but their garb suggested that they were ministers of gold instead of ministers of blood.

“We were told that your auditor was not performing his job correctly,” one said flatly. “Would we be able to speak with you about your complaints before you retire for the day?”

“Well,” Ludwig said. He ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, I suppose.”

“Excellent.” The minister steepled his fingers. “We’ve had several complaints about your auditor in the past. I think your word will be the final nail in the coffin, so to speak.”

“I see.” He paused, mind racing. “So. I think…that I was mistaken, in all honesty. He had an awful manner when he first arrived, yes, but he was a great help during the hunt, and I think that matters much more.”

The minister quirked an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Ludwig nodded. “You can speak with my hunters, I am sure they will agree.”

“We have,” another minister interjected. “And they did not hold the same opinion as you.”

He stared at them, unsure of what to think. “Oh? What did they say?”

“Was Simon with you for the whole hunt?” the minister asked, sidestepping the question.

“No. The party split as planned, and he chose to go with the one on patrol. Which made sense to me, as that would be the one most representative of our work. I had other problems to attend to, so I did not go on with the patrol.” He frowned at the ministers and crossed his arms. “I don’t think he’s the sort to completely change his behavior just because I wasn’t there supervising.”

 “One hunter told us he was a nuisance and kept harassing him throughout the hunt. Kept him from performing his duty. Said he was a problem from sunset to sunrise.”

Ludwig’s stomach twisted. “I see. Shall I bring both Simon and that hunter up here? I think I would like to hear both sides of the story—”

The minister shook his head. “Ludwig, you don’t have to defend him. Nor is his behavior any fault of yours.

“They are my hunters,” he said firmly. “If they are having problems then I want them to come to me.” He turned on his heel and strode towards the stairwell. Upon the landing, he called out into the crowded workshop.

“Which of you were on patrol tonight?”

A large portion raised their hands.

“Which of you double-shifted?”

A much smaller group responded.

“To my office, please,” he instructed. “Has anyone seen Simon?”

“Right here,” he responded. He was sitting nonchalantly at one of the workbenches, having finished repairing his bow.

“Office,” Ludwig told him. “Now.”

* * *

The hunters stood in a huddled group to the left of the table full of ministers while Simon stood to the right. Ludwig stood in the center and crossed his arms.

“Simon, I’ve been told that my hunters have several complaints about how you conducted yourself during the hunt. I can tolerate some strange behavior—all hunters have their quirks—but I cannot abide distraction when the difference between life and death is so minute. So.” He gestured towards the hunters. “Would you lot tell me what happened?”

Most of them seemed confused. One spoke up. “He did stick to Davies all night, sir,” he explained. “We just thought they were friends or the like.”

“Davies?” He frowned. The hunter in question was standing towards the back of the group and seemed surly. “Did you have any complaints?”

“He stuck to me, all right,” he grumbled. “I thought he was trying to get me killed. Kept annoying me, accusing me of things. It was distracting.”

“What did he accuse you of?”

“A lot! Murder, theft,” he scowled and narrowed his eyes, “and other things.”

“I didn’t _accuse_ him,” Simon interrupted. “I was just seeing what he would admit to.”

Ludwig sighed. “Simon, you’ll have your turn to speak. Let him say his piece. Davies, I take it you spoke to the ministers about this?”

He nodded.

“And this is the only hunter you spoke to?”

The ministers seemed reluctant to answer. “Yes,” one finally replied.

“Right, then.” He stared evenly at Simon. “Explain yourself.”

“I’ve not much to explain.” Simon was speaking more to the ministers than he was to Ludwig. “I think you’ll find that if you check that hunter’s pockets my actions will be wholly justified.”

The ministers all stared at him impassively. “What is it that you are claiming?” one said.

“While in Hemwick, Davies was missing from the group for quite a long period of time. Is that correct?” he asked, turning to Ludwig for support.

He nodded, and Simon continued. “I also noticed that while in Hemwick, the waste that we were tasked with investigating held odd qualities. I’m sure that these hunters remember the rather shocking amounts of bloodstone that we could have harvested.”

The hunters nodded in assent.

“Bloodstone forms, obviously, when a large quantity of blood coagulates. _Human_ blood. You could slaughter all the cattle you desire and never find a shard. Kill beasts and you’ll find plenty. Then why so much of it in the pit? There must have been corpses. I know Hemwick prefers burials at sea since the ground is too rocky to excavate, but perhaps inclement weather kept them from proper funerals. Laying the dead to finally rest in the middens is a shame, but perhaps it was a necessary one.”

“Is there a point arriving soon?” one minister asked dryly.

“The thing that surprised me most,” Simon said, “was that if the pit was being used as burial ground, and thus generating bloodstone, then why were there no human bones? Cats, yes, cattle, chickens, dogs, yes, but not a single human skeleton. Perhaps I missed them in the sheer volume of the waste, but with the full hand’s depth worth of blood sitting at the bottom of that pit, I should have found at _least_ one.”

The ministers seemed uneasy. Simon nodded towards Davies and continued.

“It was very strange, so I wondered what else could have caused this to happen. Why would there be blood and offal, yet no bones? Could there perhaps be someone producing substances that are _clearly_ banned by church doctrine? Ash made of human marrow to be used to improve firearms, perhaps? It would be a real shame if that were the case. All Yharnam citizens are entitled to the burial of their _whole_ body, after all. So, of course, I wondered if the disappearance of our dear Davies was connected to this discovery. Perhaps one of our own good hunters was being used to funnel contraband into the city. Which is why I implore you to check your hunter’s pockets,” he said flatly to Ludwig.

Ludwig gave Davies a concerned look. “These are accusations I cannot take lightly, and I noticed the strangeness of the situation myself. If you wish to appear innocent, then I am sure you understand the importance of showing us anything that you are carrying.”

Davies stood stock still. His lips were pressed into a thin, taut line.

Ludwig gave him a confused, sympathetic look. “Go on.”

“We certainly don’t want to resort to force,” one minister said.

Davies glared daggers at the minister. With one minutely trembling hand, he pulled one empty pocket inside-out. Then another. When his hand entered the next, he froze.

Ludwig felt the tension in his core dissipate, but he felt no relief. He instead felt a sinking feeling as the hunter pulled out a leather satchel.

“And inside?” the minister asked.

Davies dropped the bag to the ground. A puff of yellowish dust rose from where it landed. The other hunters moved to block the stairwell, in case he tried escaping, but all the fight seemed to leave the man, dissipating in the air just like the bone marrow ash.

The minister let out a long sigh. “Well. Ludwig, it will be up to you as to if you want to keep your current auditor, but I believe that we’ll be taking this hunter with us.”

Somewhere beyond the disbelief, the disappointment, Ludwig could feel anger starting to roil. “I think that will be for the best,” he replied.

“A plant,” Davies cried out. “He put that in my pocket, I swear it.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “For Gods’ sake. Just check under his nails if you have to, he’s covered in the stuff.”

Ludwig instructed a few of the hunters to escort Davies and the ministers outside. If Davies resisted, they would frog-march him all the way to the cathedral if necessary. Once the room had been cleared, Ludwig sat at the table, feeling utterly drained. He rested his head in his hands for a few moments before realizing that Simon was standing at the stairwell entrance.

“Thank you once more, I suppose,” he said weakly. “You were right, in at least this instance. I’ve tried very hard to teach my hunters not to rely on anything but their own strength. Their weapons are tools, and useful ones, but their efficacy relies on their own wills. For one to be engaging in this…this ash business, whether for personal use or for profit, is…have I been wrong in my instruction?”

“No.” Simon leaned against the table and crossed his arms. “You instruct your hunters very fairly. You just can’t control whether or not they decide to listen.”

“Still.” Ludwig sat back and stared at the ceiling. “This feels like…a betrayal, almost. Not even just against me, but against the Church and all it stands for. And for what? A fistful of dust?” His eyebrows furrowed. “Just one small bag. All this for just that. And like you said, the amount of bloodstone…” He frowned. “Why didn’t he have more?”

“He did,” Simon said. “That’s why we were short a horse. Before the hunt began, he arranged for the horse to wait at Hemwick. When he left the pit, he loaded it with as much ash as he could and sent it away. I’m sure he regretted it when he was forced to ride with me for the rest of the night.”

“Then why carry a bag of it on his person when he knew you were breathing down his neck?” Ludwig pursed his lips in thought but then his eyes widened with the realization. “You _did_ plant it on him.”

Simon leaned back and gave Ludwig a grin. “The evidence would have escaped otherwise.”

Ludwig stared at him for a few moments before breaking out into laughter. “Well, consider me sold on keeping you around. Perhaps I was a bit naïve in thinking my hunters were all paragons of virtue. If you’re going to be removing corruption as efficiently as this, then I say you’re indispensable.”  

“I wouldn’t mind staying,” Simon replied with a smile. “It’s certainly better than getting shuffled from workshop to workshop. And I suppose I must thank you, as well,” he said, his usually sharp voice growing softer. “For standing up for me, really. I’m sure the ministers would have been fine with just throwing me out on the streets if you had not said anything.”

“Think nothing of it,” he replied. “Every man deserves his fair chance.”

“Not everyone thinks that way.” Simon paused and looked away. “I have my reservations about the Church and how it does its business, you know that. But I do want to do as much good as I can with the position I have. If that means dragging filth into the light and getting my hands dirty in the process, so be it.”

Ludwig felt a twinge of tenderness in his heart, a sudden strong sympathy for the same man he had all but denounced the morning before. He leaned forward and spoke gently as he placed his hand over Simon’s own. “I think I’ve come to understand that, and I find it very honorable and true of you.” Simon had turned back towards him and was giving him an odd look. His throat suddenly dry, Ludwig swallowed before continuing. “I think that—”

Simon’s head ducked down and their lips met. Ludwig froze and felt heated surprise flash up the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” Simon said lowly. “Was that too forward?”

“No,” Ludwig replied hoarsely.

With an ebullient grin, Simon leaned down again and brushed his lips against Ludwig’s flushed cheeks. Ludwig lifted his hand to his shoulder and pulled him closer. To his dismay, Simon leaned away, but only to move from the uncomfortable twist he had to make to reach him from the corner of the table. When he leaned forward to kiss him again, Ludwig caught sight of the stairwell entrance at the end of the room and frowned.

“Perhaps we should move somewhere more private,” he said.

“Somewhere more comfortable?” Simon had turned his attention to Ludwig’s jawline, slowly kissing from his chin to his neck. When he lingered just below his ear Ludwig shivered and gently pushed him away. He stood and fished a key from his pocket before unlocking his bedroom door.

As Simon followed him in, he was struck with the realization of just how much of his time was spent alone. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time someone had been in his chambers. He had laid with others before, yes, but usually in their rooms, or stairwells, or closets or—places of convenience, and all of it was quite a long time ago. Before being hired by the Church, mostly. He was just too busy or too tired to share much of himself with others beyond performing his role as lead Church hunter. He felt more naked having Simon glance around his rather bare living space than he would have been if he were missing his clothes. There was a sudden wild fear of judgement, of ridicule, upon being so exposed, but it quickly dissipated as Simon pushed his chest up against his own.

Simon was kissing him more gently than he had expected, soft and warm presses lingering upon his mouth and his neck. His hands were resting about his waist almost chastely, as if the two were partners dancing at a ball. Ludwig let his own hands drop from Simon’s shoulders to his hips before kissing him firmly. He felt a chuff of warm air as Simon laughed against him.

“Shall we move to the bed or keep snogging like teenagers?”

“No reason we can’t snog _on_ the bed.”

“Right.” Simon’s tone was teasingly doubtful. His hands traveled slowly as he spoke, slipping down over Ludwig’s hips before coming to rest with palms pressed against his rear. “A few kisses, and nothing more.”

Ludwig couldn’t help but let out a soft noise of surprise when Simon gripped his ass tightly and brought their hips together. “I’m not opposed to more,” he replied. His breath hitched as Simon shifted his weight against him. The man’s legs had parted and Ludwig could feel the warmth between his thighs softly sinking through his trousers.

Ludwig managed to get a steady hold on him and lifted; Simon snickered as he was carried over to the bed. He was dropped onto the mattress and had barely enough time to get situated before Ludwig threw himself at him.

Now Simon was not careful with his advances. His hands slipped beneath Ludwig’s waistband and squeezed at his hips. His kisses ventured bites against his neck and shoulder. One hand lifted to began pulling at his shirt before dropping to the mattress in frustration.

“How many damned layers do you have on?” Simon asked, gesturing towards the heavy Church garb.

“Too many,” Ludwig admitted, and he stood up to disrobe. He fumbled at the tiny pearlescent buttons before giving up and gathering as much fabric as he could and pulling it up over his head. It came off inside-out and would be a mess to fix but that was currently the least of his concerns. He struggled to undo his belts—he still had the strap for his scabbard affixed loosely and it was tangled with his discarded shirts—but he managed to step out of his trousers without tripping. So now there was just undoing the undergarments, and the socks, and—he looked over his shoulder and nearly yelled at the sight of Simon, who had reclined lasciviously upon the bed, completely nude.

Ludwig flopped onto the mattress with a sigh of mock defeat. “Would you mind lending me a hand?”

Simon smirked and straddled him. Ludwig couldn’t help but stare—he was thin but well built, the fine muscles of his arms moving efficiently to unbutton his undershirt. There was a strong v-shaped indent to his hips that Ludwig ran his thumbs along before grasping his thighs. And there certainly wasn’t anything to complain about between his legs—Ludwig was quite happy to see that he was half hard.

“So which do you prefer?” Simon asked casually. “Hands, mouths, or something a little more involved?”

A jolt of excitement hit him and he had to shift a bit under Simon’s weight. “I could—I could go for the third one.”

Simon laughed and, to Ludwig’s temporary dismay, got off the bed to inspect his own pile of discarded clothing. He retrieved an opaque glass bottle.

Ludwig smiled in disbelief. “Always prepared, I see.”

“One never knows when opportunity will knock.” He rolled the bottle between his palms. “This does, however, raise another question—who’s doing the fucking?”

“Well, I usually, ah,” Ludwig stammered and gestured vaguely. “I’m used to being the one going in, so to speak.”

“Fine by me.” Simon kneeled beside him and pressed his fingers against the now very obvious tent in Ludwig’s smallclothes. “Now, let’s see what I’ll be working with.”

His hands grabbed the waistband hem and pulled down. Ludwig had to hold his breath.

“Well, damn.” Simon’s normally even tone had finally broken into breathiness. He unscrewed the cap of the bottle and poured oil into his palm. Ludwig sighed as his hand made a few slow strokes from head to base. He had to keep himself from letting out a whine when Simon pulled away.

He poured more oil onto his hand and let it flow over his fingers. “This is going to be quite an endeavor.”

Concern made Ludwig prop himself up on his elbows. “Are you really sure that you want to--?”

“As if I would pass up on this opportunity.” Simon had slid two fingers inside himself and was practically up to his knuckles. They moved slickly back and forth and he bit his lip as he prepared himself. The plain obscenity of it simultaneously made Ludwig want to look away and prevented him from doing so. “Just give me a moment. You’re hung like damn h— _ah._ ”

His voice descended to a low sigh as he removed his fingers and guided Ludwig in instead. He lowered slowly, carefully, until he could rest his rear flush against Ludwig’s hips. During the laborious process, Ludwig grasped the sheets beneath him as if he were about to fall off the bed and closed his eyes as Simon tightly clenched around his length.

Simon shifted his weight as he folded his legs in order to straddle him. Ludwig let out a noise of surprise. The sensation of Simon sliding up and down upon him, even in so slight a manner, was nearly too much for him to handle. He arched his neck back and lost himself in the engulfing feeling of him rocking against his hips.

After a while, Simon abruptly stopped his movement; Ludwig frowned and cracked one eye open.

Simon returned the expression, lifted himself an increment, and then fell heavily back upon his hips. “Hey, Ludwig, King of the Pillows. Put some effort in, would you?”

He couldn’t imagine that his face could grow any redder, but Ludwig grimaced with embarrassment as he released his grip on the blanket and placed his hands instead on Simon’s sides. Now that his eyes were open he could take in the sight of the other man’s lithe body connected so intimately to his own. Simon was kneeling slightly backwards, placing most of his weight on his knees, and his abdomen was flexed with the effort of holding himself in place. Ludwig thrust upward and felt a thrill as Simon’s mouth fell open.

He let out a moan as he matched his movement to Ludwig’s own. “Fuck, well done. Keep that up.”

Ludwig’s hands began to wander, sliding a grip from the man’s hips to along his thighs, sweeping from outside to inside. Finally, his fingers found his cock and traced lightly along the length. It bobbed in his hand and Simon made a strangled noise that caused him to redouble his efforts. He stroked in intervals that paused to let him rub his thumb in small circles just below the head. Simon clutched at him and swore under his breath each time.

Ludwig could feel the effusive heat growing in his gut, the blossoming feeling hinting at deeper sensations that he chased after desperately—Simon was practically bouncing on top of him with their combined efforts. He felt a drop of something hit his belly and when he dragged his fingertips across Simon’s head it was sticky with pre.

He could feel electric excitement sparking up his spine. Simon was leaning back, his chest shiny with sweat. He could see his thighs trembling, and as he quickened his strokes his head fell back and he made a sound that almost made Ludwig lose himself right there and then. And then his stomach and chest were spattered with wet warmth and he felt so _proud_ at the satisfied expression that Simon had that he did.

Simon leaned forward and Ludwig slid out of him wetly. As Simon stood up from the bed, Ludwig closed his eyes and steadied his breathing. His arms and legs felt leaden, weighed down by remnant lapping waves of afterglow. He heard Simon rifling through the bathroom and the sloshing of water. When Simon returned, a cold and soggy washcloth landed on his chest with a _splap_.

“Thanks.” He cleaned himself carefully. When he had finished, he realized that Simon had already begun dressing himself. His heart sank, and to his own surprise, he heard himself speak. “You can stay, if you want. Get some rest.”

Simon quirked an eyebrow at him but let his pants fall back to the floor. He slipped beneath the covers. Ludwig could have fallen asleep within seconds, but he forced himself to rise and go to the restroom in order to finish washing up. The water in the basin was refreshingly cool against his face. He glanced over his shoulder. Simon was curled on his side, the blanket tucked up over his shoulders. Ludwig felt awash in that same tenderness as before, a soft joy at the thorny misunderstandings between the two of them unraveling with such simplicity.

* * *

Ludwig woke up slowly. His abdomen felt tautly sore. He rolled over and realized that Simon was already awake. At some point he must have gotten dressed, but he was reclining on top of the covers and reading one of the dusty novels that had been moldering neglected on one of Ludwig’s shelves.

Ludwig rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Gods, what time is it?”

“Well past noon,” Simon said nonchalantly.

Ludwig grumbled in annoyance as he sat up. “I have to go to the cathedral.”

“Weren’t you there just a day ago?”

“Yes, but.” Ludwig groaned and leaned forward. He felt as if his spine had been replaced with a series of rusty hinges. “I really do need to go speak to Laurence. He’ll be expecting a report on that last hunt.”

 “I’ll be sure to leave well after you do,” Simon said. “Unless you want your hunters drawing conclusions.”

Ludwig mentally gave thanks that the barracks were a few floors below his own quarters. The workshop was generally loud enough that suspicious sounds from his room would go unheard. “Do as you think is prudent,” he replied.

* * *

The door to Laurence’s office was closed. As Ludwig went to knock he realized someone else was already meeting with him. He could hear their conversation somewhat through the door.

Laurence’s voice sounded slightly muffled, as if he were talking while pressing his face into his hands. “You can’t…You can’t put the entire population of Yahar Gul on payroll.”

“Why not? They’re all contributing.”

“All of them?” Paper shuffled. “You’ve got _newborns_ on this list.”

“In order to factor in stipends for the parents, yes.”

“The parents that you claim are working for you.”

“In some capacity, yes.”

Realizing that it was likely Micolash in the office, Ludwig decided to take a walk and come back later.

The cathedral sometimes felt sterile to Ludwig after the rigors of the hunt. Marble tiles and glass were a wholly different clime than the blood-soaked fields. Still, the halls sometimes brought him more stress than the beasts. He was trying to decide how he wanted to broach the bone ash debacle with Laurence when he nearly strode right past a pensive looking Maria.

“Oh, Lady Maria,” he said. “How are you faring?”                                                                      

“Decently enough.” Her smile was thin. “I’ve been given an assignment to the north. I worry about my patients in my absence, of course, but I suppose I have duties beyond even them.”

“I see.” He offered a sympathetic frown. “Shall it at least be a quick endeavor?”

“I hope so.” She seemed lost in thought and unwilling to discuss it further. “In any case, I will not be attending the next meeting.” The ghost of a smirk manifested as she looked up at Ludwig. “Can I depend upon you to keep the place from devolving into chaos in my absence?”

“I swear as Holy Blade that there will be no blood shed at the next budget discussion,” he said, raising one hand in mock oath.

Her smile seemed far more genuine now. “It will be a difficult job, I’m sure. The reason the ministers’ sleeves are so voluminous is to hide all manner of knives.”

Ludwig barked out a laugh. “I think they’d be at higher risk of hurting themselves that way. I don’t know if those money-men could cut each other with anything other than words.”

“Better to have it that way than how it is in the throne room. Once, when unable to agree with a fellow noble, a relative of mine simply leaned over during the argument and bit the other man’s throat out.” Maria glanced upwards as she tried to recall the tangled arcana of the Cainhurst royal line. “My great-great uncle, I believe.”

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“It sounds like a tall tale, but I have no reason to doubt it.” She shrugged and crossed her arms tightly against her chest. “The descendants of the man he killed still wear red cravats in remembrance and hold an unwavering hatred for that uncle’s side of the family.”

“Goodness.” He frowned.

“So.” She shrugged. “Muzzle the ministers, if you must.”

* * *

He had circled back to the office several times before the door was cracked open. He knocked and Laurence welcomed him in.

“I’m sure you heard about what happened,” Ludwig began. “A hunter of mine was found bringing illegal goods into the city. I’d like the resources to conduct an investigation in Hemwick, as well. My hunter may have transported the ash but _someone_ in Hemwick must be producing it—”

Laurence frowned and leaned back in his chair. “That won’t be necessary.”

Ludwig looked at him incredulously. “It _won’t_?”

Laurence paused, sighed, fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve. “The bone ash is safely within the Cathedral Ward,” he finally replied. “And your hunter is merely to be transferred to a different workshop.”

“ _What_?”

“I should have known that you wouldn’t be able to let this go,” he muttered. “Davies was working under instruction of the Church. The ash is to be used in ways that I would much prefer not _everyone_ knowing about. _Especially_ not people such as your accidental auditor, who I doubt cares for the church much at all. I thought it would have been good for you, finally giving you the chance to get Simon out of your workshop.”

Ludwig’s hands had tightened into fists. “You wanted me to just _let_ this all happen?”

“We weren’t expecting you to fancy yourself a judge. The ministers were supposed to take care of it all for you. It’s just completely pointless if we’re arresting our own agents,” Laurence said dryly. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

“Then why not _tell_ me?” Ludwig leaned forward with frustrated earnestness. “If I had known, I would have kept Simon from accusing him.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Oh, Ludwig, do forgive me for not telling you about a highly sensitive endeavor known about only by those actively involved. Why not just have me tell Simon as well? Why shouldn’t I inform the whole hunting party?”

Ludwig recoiled. He was stunned into silence.

Laurence let out a slow sigh. He gave Ludwig a reproachful stare. “My apologies. I understand what it is you were suggesting. There are just some things that the Church has to procure for the betterment of the city that the city would also denounce us for using. I was worried that you would go public with the knowledge, yes, but only because of your moral fortitude.”

Ludwig frowned and dropped his gaze to the surface of the desk. “I do not agree with what has been done in Hemwick,” he said carefully, “but my loyalty lies with the Church. If you say that this was done in the best interest of the people, then I believe you.”

Laurence relaxed, sitting back as if all the tension had left him. “Good.” He laced his hands together and let them rest in his lap. “I’m glad. I just…did not want to concern you with these things when the hunt is enough to worry about already. If any similar situations arise in the future, you will be informed.”

“Thank you.” Ludwig let his hands unfurl from fists; there was a harsh indent where his nails had bit into his palms.

“How was the rest of the hunt?” Laurence’s tone was still apologetic. “Was there anything of note?”

“Oh, yes, actually.” His memory stirred. “I was of informed of beasts suspected to be to the east of Bergynwerth. It’s outside the trail of our usual patrol but I could instruct a few hunters to look for them.”

“That would be wise. Just be sure not to stray too close to the college. I don’t want beasts drawn to the students. Or,” he continued with a frown, “vice versa.”

* * *

In the workshop, there were supplies to distribute, weapons to repair, hunters to organize. Ludwig threw himself into his work and tried to not think as much as possible, but the past kept bubbling to the surface. Blood, ash, bone, trash—paperwork—the suspicion that he must have obliviously enabled such things in the past—the workshop needed more oil for the lamps yet still no more had arrived—should Simon know that his investigation had nearly uncovered something more insidious—the rat problem in the storeroom absolutely must be stopped, Gratia told him, clenching a fist as if she would mash each one into the floorboards herself—or did Simon already know?

That was yet another problem—how to interact with Simon. He had not seen him around the workshop at all yet. He didn’t dare assume that their night together meant much to him, but the not knowing gnawed at the back of his mind.

In any case, the sun had set and the night was pressing ever onward. His more immediate concerns were simple. The puzzle of the future could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> laurence will get more love next chapter i swear
> 
> it will also become increasingly obvious that i do not know how to spell byrgygygygygygygenenenenwyrth


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